


In Synergy, In Syzygy

by Silmariën (Starrie_Wolf), Starrie_Wolf



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Actor AU, Director Alfor, Established shklance, Genderfluid Pidge plays both Katie and Matt Holt, Humour, Modern AU, Multi, No relationship drama, PTSD, Romance, Shklance Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-03-25 02:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Silmari%C3%ABn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf
Summary: The AU where everything is exactly the same as VLD canon, except they’re all actors for this TV series called Voltron: Legendary Defender.“Shiro, you’re like a brother to me.”“That’s not how I’d put last night.”“CUT! TAKASHI, I EXPECTED BETTER OF YOU!”(Lance, aside: Well, he’s not wrong.)





	1. Season 1, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit sexual content in one scene in chapter 3 and another scene in chapter 5. Rest of the scenes are rated Teen.
> 
> Thanks to the Shklance Big Bang mods for hosting, and my two amazing artists mistydragonflyart and crafty-scrafty!

“I’ll stick _you_ in a wormhole!”

From his vantage point on the bed, Keith raised an eyebrow at the dramatic gesturing going on. Lance ignored him with the ease of long practice and kept right on pacing around the hotel room, occasionally acting out a line or two.

Keith just shook his head, and went back to reading his own script.

“Are we really fighting over who gets to rescue Shiro?” he asked aloud, vaguely incredulously.

Lance paused, looking up, and then quickly flipped backwards until he was on the same page as Keith.

“You’re fighting over what now?”

It would’ve been comical, how both he and Keith spun around simultaneously at the sound of Shiro’s voice, but any amusement Lance might’ve felt was eclipsed by several more _pressing_ emotions at the sight of his very well-built, very hot boyfriend wearing nothing but boxer-briefs, a towel draped over his shoulders.

Hey, he was a healthy, allosexual man in his twenties, okay?

“Stop drooling, Lance,” Keith muttered.

“ _You’re_ drooling,” he retorted, without taking his eyes off those glistening pectorals, or the nipples pebbling slightly in the chill of their hotel room.

Shiro crossed the room to get his compression sock from the hotel table, which offered Lance an excellent view of his ass, really, so he could hardly complain.

“Over who gets to be your knight in shining armour,” Keith told Shiro, while Lance was busy ogling those globes of perfection.

Shiro looked at him, and then at Lance, like he was mentally sizing them up for knight potential.

“How about both of you simultaneously?”

Across the room, Keith caught Lance’s eye. A slow smirk spread across his face, and Lance knew it was mirrored in his own expression.

“I think,” Lance purred, enjoying the way Shiro flushed, a tinge of red dusting across his cheeks, “that’s a fantastic idea.”

Keith snapped his own copy of the script shut, tossing it onto the bedside table just as Lance tackled Shiro onto the bed.

☆☆☆☆☆

Even a king-sized bed was a pretty tight squeeze for three, and Lance would never say it to Keith’s face, but he was really glad Keith was so smol. If his other boyfriend had been, like, the size of Hunk – somebody was going to end up on the floor every night.

Speak of the devil, though –

“Stop wriggling around.” Keith jabbed at Lance’s arm with his bony fingers, the only part of Lance he could reach.

“Not like I _want_ to!”

“ _Guys_ ,” interrupted Shiro, before they could keep sniping at each other out of sheer habit. “It’s a long drive tomorrow, can we sleep?”

The reminder made Lance groan. “Why’s it all the way in the middle of nowhere, anyway?” The directions they’d been given were quite vague, and mostly consisted of ‘follow the road all the way down until you see deep wheel indentations veering off-road, and then follow those until you see the trailers’.

“So that we don’t have to keep packing up camp,” explained Shiro. “Director Alfor’s decision – since the Garrison scenes, the bit on Kerberos, half of Arus and the whole Balmera all have rocky terrain, he’s told the location scout to pick somewhere in the desert where we could set up semi-permanent camp for the entire season.”

“Google Maps says nearest town’s almost an hour’s drive away,” reported Keith, without opening his eyes. He actually looked kind of cute, snuggling into Shiro’s bicep like that, his hair fanning over the pillow.

An _hour_?!

Lance buried his face into the nearest flat surface, which happened to be Shiro’s pecs, and shrieked incoherently.

Completely cut off from civilisation, shuttling from trailer to location and back every day for the next few months? He loved his boyfriends, he really did, but if he had to spend 24/7 with them for months he’d go crazy. And – and what about _food_?

Oh, but Hunk would be there. At least there was _that_.

He told the other two so when he finally came back up for air. “Hunk’s an utter _genius_ when it comes to food; like, everyone in class kept asking why he was in acting school and not culinary school.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Shiro sounded vaguely more enthused.

“At least we won’t have to suffer _Coran’s_ idea of cooking every day,” agreed Keith, voice muffled like he was about to drop off at any moment.

The three of them shuddered collectively.

☆☆☆☆☆

“Welcome, welcome, paladins, to your new home!”

It was _way_ too early to deal with Coran’s enthusiasm. Lance hid a yawn, propping his cheek on top of Keith’s shoulder, loving how his boyfriend was the perfect size to fit in his arms. Shiro made for a great pillow, but Keith was just – nicer to drape himself all over, and that mullet was fluffier than it looked.

Shiro was, thankfully, adult enough for three people, and they could leave him to handle all the bureaucracy and just sit there, like a pair of half-asleep zombies.

“You all right?” he muttered into Keith’s hair.

Keith made a quiet noise that sounded like it came a dying cat. Lance winced. Him and Shiro might have been… a little too enthusiastic with his ass the night before; Keith hadn’t said anything the whole car ride over, but Lance thought he looked a little green every time their SUV went over yet another pothole.

On the other side, Shiro was getting introduced to some of the other cast members, probably the main antagonists of the show, since Lance didn’t recognise any of them. Normally Lance would’ve been all over that, he _loved_ meeting new people, but he didn’t want to leave Keith on his own. Instead, he contented himself with looking around idly, until –

“Hunk!” he yelled, nearly upsetting Keith’s perch on his lap when he waved frantically. “You big, gassy genius!”

Hunk threw back his head and laughed, a loud, full-bellied sound that caught the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

“Hey, _Tailor_ ,” he rejoindered easily when he was close enough to be heard without shouting. “How’s it going?”

Lance grinned widely. “Way better now that I know we’ve got Gordon Ramsey on set,” he told Hunk, flailing one long limb until he could pat Hunk on the arm, since he couldn’t reach Hunk’s shoulder at that moment.

Hunk huffed out a laugh. “I’m not that good,” he demurred. His eyes darted sideways to Keith, but he didn’t say anything, choosing to give Lance the lead.

Lance shifted slightly to give Keith some warning that he was about to become the centre of attention. “Keith, this is Hunk, my roommate for four years in college and my _best_ friend ever. Hunk, meet Keith, my other boyfriend.”

“Oh man,” Hunk grinned, holding out a hand, not batting an eyelid at the way Keith eyed it warily. “Lance’s talked about you _so much_ , you wouldn’t believe – he had such a huge crush on you, it was totally embarrassing to watch. Like, once he almost tripped and fell into a ditch because –”

“Don’t bring _that_ up!” Lance yelped, but he could hardly be upset at Hunk when Keith reached out, finally shaking the proffered hand.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” said Keith, and Lance could hear the smirk in his voice. “Lance wouldn’t shut up about you either; so I guess we’ve got you to thank for saving us from potential food poisoning the next few months?”

From across the yard, Lance met Shiro’s eyes. He winked.

_Mission: Get Keith More Friends, success._

☆☆☆☆☆

“Home, sweet home,” Lance muttered, flopping onto the couch in their brand new trailer. Even as extroverted as he was, it had been a long day. He could hear the other two moving further into the trailer, checking out their new home-away-from-home for the next couple of months, and he’d do that – soon. It was a pretty good couch, long enough for him to comfortably to sprawl over, and wide enough for a second person to join him.

The kitchenette was pretty basic, but they certainly didn’t skimp on the fridge – not that they’d spend much time cooking. Lance fully expected to be hanging out at Hunk’s every moment he could.

He turned his head to the side. Weird, Keith and Shiro seemed to have stopped moving around.

“Found something?” he yelled.

“Yeah,” Shiro called back, after a moment. “Come check this out!”

Regretfully, Lance got back up, padding over to the other end of the trailer. Shiro was standing in the surprisingly spacious bathroom, watching Keith do a starfish impression over the – wow. Lance stalked closer, but no, it wasn’t an optical illusion.

“Director Alfor said they’d do their best to make things accommodating,” Shiro remarked, coming up behind him and resting a hand on Lance’s bicep. “I guess this is what he meant.”

The bed was far larger than a typical king-sized, and although it still couldn’t match up to the custom-made monstrosity they had at home, at least nobody was going to be in danger of falling out in the middle of the night. And now that Lance was looking carefully, the bathroom was definitely sized for two, maybe even three at a tight squeeze, and the typical makeup station had been expanded to include special provisions for Shiro’s prosthetic.

“It’s pretty nice of them,” he agreed, which was a bit of an understatement, really. This was way better than any hotel they’ve ever had to stay in, and most trailers – a true home away from home, indeed.

☆☆☆☆☆

“So Keith gets to sit here and, what, sip fucking iced tea while we film half the episode?”

Keith raised his glass of iced tea in a mock salute, looking unfairly comfortable in his seat right outside the range of the cameras, red jacket slung over the back of the chair. Lance resisted the urge to send him back a salute with his middle finger, and not the least because Allura looked like she’d eviscerate him if he made them do _another_ retake.

“Oh, no,” Director Alfor told them all cheerfully. “Keith here will be manning the laser beams later!”

“What.”

The ‘laser beams’ were, of course, referring to a machine that emitted harmless beams of light, to simulate the plasma lasers in the show.

 _Lance_ wanted to be the first to play with that.

“Bu – but he has no aim!” he spluttered, pointing an accusing finger at Keith, who had the audacity to keep on sipping his damned tea. Lance scowled. Keith didn’t just end work several hours early – they were calling it a day after filming the retrieval of the Green and Yellow Lions, none of which he was involved in – which meant he could not only get out of all that makeup, but also play with the lasers machine first?!

Alfor shrugged, looking supremely nonchalant. “Good thing he’s not supposed to hit you and Hunk, then!”

“Come on, Lance,” Hunk called, tugging on his arm. “We need to get into Blue now, the cameras are about to start rolling.”

Never let it be said that Lance didn’t know when he was beaten.

 _You owe me_ , he mouthed at Keith exaggeratedly when he was seated in Blue’s ‘cockpit’, pointing first at himself, and then at Keith, and then twirling his finger. Keith just looked really confused. Or constipated, Lance could never tell which. Where was Shiro when you needed a handy translator, or backup?

Oh, right. Off with Pidge, filming _their_ part of the episode.

Life was really unfair sometimes.

☆☆☆☆☆

“You’ve already activated my particle barrier?” parroted Shiro, raising one incredulous eyebrow.

Lance pouted at Shiro, who only gazed back at him implacably. It was a _joke_ , okay? Sometimes his mouth moved faster than his thoughts, and pick-up lines just slip out, like that –

Keith came out of the bathroom, the ends of his hair still dripping wet. “I think he needs to be punished,” he told Shiro.

Lance gulped loudly. “Okay, I take back what I said on set, I totally hate you after all.”

Keith only tipped his head to the side, the smirk on his face unfairly attractive, and Lance’s body was getting some _really_ mixed signals there, caught between getting the hell out of there and snogging that smirk off of Keith’s face, until his mouth was lax and open, hands scrabbling for purchase on Lance’s shoulders.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one who forgot his lines and decided to go with impromptu pick-up lines instead.”

“They were a great idea!” Lance argued. “Director loved it – he’s going to add in a subplot between my character and Princess **Fāra** –”

“Be that it may,” Shiro interrupted, and that look of patent Disappointment hit Lance like a punch in the gut, even though he knew they were mostly joking, “you were blatantly flirting with someone else right in front of us.”

As though it was rehearsed, Keith added without missing a beat, “it’s almost like we’re not enough for you anymore.” He strutted closer like a predator on a prowl, leaning down until he was eye level with Lance.

He had to give it to them. Their poker faces, as expected of _damned_ good actors, were flawless. If he hadn’t known better, by the arm Shiro had wrapped around his waist and the fact he was _very_ used to Keith’s way of aggressive flirting, he’d have thought they were legitimately upset with him.

What to do… he could respond with some faked bravado, or nitpick at something Keith did while on set until they get into another quarrel, but – honestly. That was more his TV character’s style than his own.

Real Lance just found it _really hot_.

“Yeah?” he challenged, tilting his head back to stare Keith in the face. “You going to do something about it?”

Keith snorted, using the few scant inches he had on Lance in this position to grin obnoxiously down at Lance. “Still think you won’t be able to sleep tonight?”

“What about you?” Lance snarked back. “Your head’s on the pillow but you sure aren’t ‘lights out’.”

Shiro coughed, rather pointedly.

Slightly abashed, they both turned to him.

“Guys, save your fighting for Zarkon.”

There was a momentary beat of silence, and when Lance looked up slowly, there was a huge smirk on Shiro’s face.

“Do you concede?”

He exchanged a meaningful look with Keith.

“No way in hell,” Keith growled.

“What he said,” agreed Lance, jabbing a finger at Keith.

Shiro threw a pillow at them.


	2. Season 1, Part 2

_“I’ve lost connection with Pidge!” Allura yelled. “Oh, no! It’s taking off!”_

“And _CUT_!”

Keith shook himself mentally, getting out of his character’s headspace, and back into his own.

Shiro and Lance were _fine_ , he reminded himself, staring at but not seeing the cameras surrounding them, the secondary production crew busy packing up their equipment. They were just at the primary filming location, helping to remotely control the mechanical mice as they wreak havoc in the Castle of Lions to stop the launch.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, but no, it was just Allura.

“I’m headed over now, do you want a ride?”

A part of Keith wanted to take her up on it. He knew, intellectually, that none of this was real, that it was all an act for a television show – but sometimes, he got stuck in his character’s headspace, especially after an emotional scene. He _knew_ that his boyfriends were fine, that they were right now probably having a lot of fun sending the robotic mice through the vents, but getting to see them with his own eyes – yeah, that would help.

> _Keith, 16:25_
> 
> _I’m done for the day._

But there was something else he needed to do first.

“Nah,” he told Allura. “Thanks, but I need to hit the town.”

> _Shiro, 16:28_
> 
> _See you back at the trailer._

Shiro and Lance had hitched a ride in one of the crew SUVs, since neither of them fancied driving across the desert in the middle of the night after a long day of filming well into the night, which meant Keith had the car today.

He checked his watch. Plenty of time to make it to town and back to camp before they got back.

> _Lance, 16:43_
> 
> _Dont have too much fun without us!!_

There was an attached image, a blurry selfie of what looked like Lance’s eyebrows, half of Shiro’s prosthetic, and several robotic mice perched on the floor.

Keith grinned down at his phone, pocketing it.

The HEB in that tiny town didn’t have much, but they were in fucking Texas. No self-respecting Texan town was going to screw up beef. Keith dropped yet another pack of frozen burger patties into the basket, on top of the multitude cans of soup already lining the bottom. Shiro couldn’t cook for his life, but he wasn’t so bad that he could burn water, so canned soup was pretty safe.

At least they didn’t need to pick up toilet paper or whatever, the crew handled that. There _was_ also a mess of sorts, but you tend to get bored of the same old stuff day in, day out – not to mention they’d be closed by the time Lance and Shiro got back.

The sun was a mere speck on the horizon when Keith arrived back at camp, but the fluorescent stage lights scattered around kept it bright as day.

Pidge’s head popped into view just as Keith was unloading the last of his grocery run purchases, nearly startling him into dropping all of them.

“Hunk made dinner, since he and Coran got to take today off,” they explained. “If you run, you might be able to get a plate.”

Now that Pidge mentioned it, there was a distinct mouth-watering aroma permeating the camp, one that even Keith had come to associate with their resident chef.

He glanced up at the sky again, just in time to see the sun vanish beneath the horizon. His boyfriends would be _hours_ yet, since the script for their scene called for a completely dark sky, so… he technically had time.

But…

“Hunk’s saved you a plate.”

Well. Unlike his character’s personality, Keith wasn’t quite _that_ socially awkward. “Just let me drop these off first.”

Pidge twisted their neck like a pigeon, peering into one of the plastic bags he was juggling. “Chips, dip, Campbell, gummy bears, hot cocoa powder… burgers?”

His first instinct was to rip the bags away from them, but –

If there was anyone who wouldn’t judge him, judge _them_ , it was Pidge.

“Yeah. Shiro and Lance, they’re always starving after a night of filming, and the mess’ closed by then.”

“Who isn’t?” Pidge agreed easily, without batting an eyelid, grabbing one of the bags from his hand. “You know what, let’s get these to Hunk. He can work a little marinade magic on these, and then you can just grab them from the fridge and grill them later.”

They’d love that. Keith realised with a pang – he hadn’t even thought about marination, too caught up in the half-formed idea of welcoming them home with burgers fresh off the grill, but that was a brilliant idea.

“Yeah,” he said, with a bit more enthusiasm. “That’ll be great.”

“Cool.” Pidge began walking off, the grocery bag swinging from their hand. “Just bring all the bags with you – come on, before any of those locusts get into the kitchen and you lose your plate.”

☆☆☆☆☆

He should’ve just brought Pidge and Hunk in on his plan from the start.

“– I mean, there’s stuff _called_ Cuban-style seasoning in the supermarkets, but who knows if any of that’s real, right?” Hunk babbled on, his hands flying expertly over the ground chuck, sprinkling powder from yet another jar onto the patties like he was casting arcane magic. “There’s no Samoan cuisine around so I can’t judge, but Pidge dragged us to their house once and man, _that_ was the best damned Italian I’ve ever had in this country.”

Keith nodded awkwardly when Hunk looked at him expectantly. “Shiro –” he had to clear his throat when his voice choked up unexpectedly, “Shiro always said the stuff labelled as Japanese food here tastes nothing like real Japanese food.”

“I’d guess so, yeah.” Hunk’s grin was easy and blinding. “But then it turns out Lance’s Mom sent him a package, and it’s all these spices –” he waved a hand over the assorted jars lined up in front of him “– so I thought, hey, these got to be the real thing, yeah?”

Keith looked up in surprise. “Lance’s Mom sent something?”

“Yeah.” Hunk nudged over two envelopes with his elbow, and went back to working his particular brand of magic. “The crew went by the post office in the morning, picked up our first batch of mail. There’s one for Shiro too.”

Tucking the envelopes into one of the grocery bags so that he wouldn’t forget them, Keith returned to the remnants of his dinner.

Pidge was right, both about the food – Keith hadn’t quite believed Lance when the latter had extolled the many virtues of Hunk’s cooking, given how prone his boyfriend was to dramatics, but he supposed he now owed Lance an apology – and about the company.

A part of him _had_ been concerned: Hunk was Lance’s best friend, and Keith was well-aware he didn’t exactly come across as boyfriend material; that was more Shiro’s forte than his. But Hunk hadn’t said anything about him, about _them_ at all.

Keith was, somewhat reluctantly, charmed.

“Oh yeah!” Hunk turned to Pidge. “I keep forgetting to ask – how did they do the photo of Katie and Matt side by side? Is it, like, Photoshop?”

“Oh.” Pidge scratched their head. “Actually, I’m not sure how, but they made me pose first as Katie on the left there, just me alone, told me to pretend I’m standing next to someone – and then I changed into Matt’s costume for the bit on the right, and then somehow the two got pieced together in the final image? So, I guess Photoshop?”

“Huh.” Hunk digested that, his hands briefly stalling on the prep. “Well, at least Katie and Matt won’t be appearing onscreen together, so that’s all fine and good then.”

“There’s music videos where the same person could be in the same frame as themselves, wearing different costumes, so I’m sure that’s doable,” interjected Keith. He wiped his fingers on some tissue paper, tapping away on his phone until he could pull one that he remembered up on YouTube.

It was a bit of squeeze to fit all three of them around the tiny phone screen, but they somehow managed.

“Oh, right.” Pidge snapped their fingers, hitting pause on the relevant scene. “I totally forgot you could do that.” They looked sort of excited at the prospect, eyes sparkling. “I wonder if we’ll find Matt in season two or three – that’ll be so cool.”

“Not season two, I think,” Keith muttered. “The script for that one’s mostly finalised, isn’t it?”

“Ah, that’s true.”

Before Keith had quite realised how much time had passed, his phone was beeping at him with a new incoming message.

> _Lance, 02:48_
> 
> _Finally done for the night!!!_

“Guys, it’s been great, but I need to go,” he said aloud, pocketing his phone.

Pidge was practically slumped over the counter, but at those words they shook themselves and sluggishly got to their feet. “I ought to go to bed too,” they muttered, just barely stifling a yawn.

“Go get them, tiger!” cheered Hunk, handing Keith the box of burger patties from the fridge.

“Thanks for everything,” he told the two of them, receiving two waves in response.

The chilly night air was a slap to the face after the food coma in Hunk and Pidge’s trailer, and that was more incentive for Keith to hurry along, until he could safely ensconce himself in his own trailer.

The primary shooting location was about half an hour’s drive away from camp, he estimated, so he’d just have enough time to fire up the grill and get everything done right before Shiro and Lance got in. Keith was so thankful Hunk had done the bulk of the work, and now the only things left for him to do were boil the water for hot cocoa, and pop the burgers on the grill.

“Honey I’m _hooooome_ ~” sang Lance, throwing the door open. Keith almost laughed out loud at the way his nose twitched, foot paused comically on the top stair. “Dios mío, _I love you_.”

To his horror, he could feel his cheeks heating up, even though he knew Lance was just saying it because of the food.

Unsurprisingly, Lance made a beeline for the burgers, barely pausing to drop a kiss on Keith’s cheek as he breezed past. Shiro followed at a more sedate pace, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist and refusing to let him go even as he hopped up onto one of the barstools. Keith had to lean awkwardly against the counter, trapped between Shiro’s thighs.

“This is so good,” Lance moaned, the sound very nearly pornographic, and Keith’s cheeks _burned_.

“There’s hot cocoa too.” He shoved a mug in Lance’s direction, piled so high with marshmallows that the chocolate couldn’t even be seen. Shiro’s and his own mugs were far less ostentatious, just one each, although the bag was right there if Shiro wanted any more.

Shiro stopped him from hiding behind his own mug, turning Keith’s head gently to the side with one hand so that they could see each other. There was something in his grey eyes, something almost like awe, as he sealed their lips together.

Keith made a small noise at the contact, one hand coming up automatically to grip Shiro’s shoulder, and in response Shiro deepened the kiss, one hand cradling the back of Keith’s head to hold him in place, their lips moving against each other in easy, comfortable familiarity.

“Love you too,” Shiro said, when the kiss ended.

Keith was officially blushing now, even when Shiro let go of him to start on his own burger. His eyebrows shot up after the first bite. “This _is_ good,” he said, cramming a bigger bite into his mouth with far more enthusiasm. “What did you put in it?”

Lance made an incoherent noise accompanied by some flailing, but his mouth was way too full to make any meaningful verbal contribution, so it was up to Keith. “Some Cuban spices that Lance’s Mom sent,” he explained, willing the heat in his cheeks to fade. “Hunk helped me make the patties.” He took a bite out of his own burger, and – yeah, they were right. It _was_ delicious. He was so glad he’d gone to Hunk.

“My Mom did?” exclaimed Lance, finally managing to swallow his latest bite. But then he paused, and looked mournfully at the empty plate in front of him.

Keith sighed and made to get up from his comfortable perch on Shiro’s thigh. “There’s more on the grill.”

Lance patted his shoulder. “No, no, I got this –” he leaned over, and Keith was too surprised to stop him from leaving a messy, greasy peck on his lips. “Thanks, babe.”

Keith spluttered, but Shiro’s hold on him prevented him from lunging at Lance, for what he didn’t even quite know.

“Oh, and Keith?” Lance leaned back around the corner, a new burger in hand. “I _do_ love you, you know?” he added, easy as anything, his smile free and open.

There went any hope at composure.


	3. Season 1, Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Explicit Sexual Content. If you're uncomfortable with such, skip the rest of the scene after Hunk sends Shiro to look for Keith and Lance for dinner.

Shiro rose with the sun.

It was a habit left over from his days in the military, one that he never really managed to break, even after so long – but it had its perks.

Keith rolled over, right into the slight depression Shiro had left behind, instinctively seeking out a new source of warmth. He snuffled softly, and somehow managed to tuck himself under one of Lance’s outstretched arms.

They were absolutely adorable, like a pile of soft, cuddly puppies.

Grinning to himself, Shiro set off on his daily morning run.

☆☆☆☆☆

Breakfast was sizzling away on the stove when he got back, Lance waving a spatula cheerfully at him, wearing that neon pink _Kiss the Cook_ apron they got him as a gag gift one year. It clashed horribly with his skin, but Shiro hardly cared, leaning in for a long, lingering kiss – and filched a piece of bacon.

“I’ll go wake Keith up,” he called before Lance could do more than swat at his arm, beating a hasty retreat down the corridor, stolen bacon safely in hand.

Good thing his prosthetic hand couldn’t feel pain.

Keith had splayed himself all over the middle of the bed while they were gone, snuggling into Lance’s pillow. He looked so cute Shiro was almost loath to wake him, if it wasn’t for the fact that they had to get started.

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get up,” he pointed out, loudly enough that Keith couldn’t continue drowsing, pretending the sun wouldn’t rise if he kept his eyes closed.

Keith whined into the pillow, clutching it harder, like a particularly disgruntled cat being moved from his spot.

Shiro puttered around the room, working his prosthetic off for his shower, poking his head out to the corridor to see if Lance was done cooking yet (he was).

He heard Keith shuffle into the bathroom halfway through his shower, stumbling like a drunken zombie.

“Mornin’,” Keith grunted.

Shiro could only be thankful Director Alfor believed in twelve-hour work days, and not, say, the seventeen-hour ones most of the rest of the industry subscribed to. The downside was that filming ran seven days a week, but hey, they were camping in the middle of nowhere anyway.

It did put a dent on their sex life, but Shiro would rather not have to imagine dragging Keith up at five every morning to rush to wardrobe. Seven o’ clock was already bad enough.

☆☆☆☆☆

“I cradled you in my arms!”

Lance stared at Keith, at the aghast expression on his face, and burst out laughing.

Keith’s eyebrow twitched.

“ _CUT!_ ”

“– ahahahaha –”

A couple takes ago, Keith was right there, laughing with him.

“I’m sorry,” coughed Lance, tears streaming down his face. “It’s just – his _face_ –”

Keith groaned, a long, drawn-out noise of pure frustration, and stormed off the set.

Shiro prepared himself to go chasing after him, but Keith surprised him by changing directions suddenly and making a beeline for Shiro instead. His fists were still clenched, but Shiro didn’t think he was about to punch anyone.

He opened his arms, invitingly.

“Want a hug?”

Keith rocked back on the balls of his feet for a moment, musing the offer over, and then walked straight into Shiro’s chest. “Yeah,” he mumbled into the crook of Shiro’s neck.

Shiro took the clear invitation to wrap his left arm around Keith’s shoulders, rubbing soothing circles over his back. Keith was shaking under his arm, just subtly enough that no one watching them could probably tell, but enough to throw up all sorts of warning flags for Shiro. He smoothed his hand over Keith’s back again, tucking him a little more securely into the crook of his shoulder, and signalled to Director Alfor for a quick break.

“Sorry,” Keith muttered, disengaging himself.

“You’re welcome,” Shiro assured, giving Keith a quick once-over.

“It’s just –” Keith scrubbed a hand through his hair, and Shiro could see him struggling for words. “Sometimes, he –”

And Shiro _got_ it.

Fortunately, he also knew what to do.

“You never cradle _me_ in your arms,” he complained, maybe a little too dramatically, but he was gratified by the way Keith’s eyes went _wide_.

“Well, if you’d be the little spoon for _once_ , Shiro…” Keith retorted, apparently on autopilot.

Shiro shook his head, mock-despairingly. “You’re too small,” he pointed out, “it’ll be like I’m wearing a backpack.”

The bark of laughter Keith let out rang in the enclosed room, and made everyone turn to stare at them. Ignoring all of them, Shiro laid a hand on his shoulder. “Go, be great.”

☆

“ACTION!”

“I cradled you in my arms,” deadpanned Keith, in a drawling monotone.

Lance gaped at him.

Shiro put his head in his hands. _That_ was not what he meant…

☆☆☆☆☆

“When I go, I want all the stuff in my brain stored in a giant ship.”

“The amount of information in your brain could be stored in a paper airplane,” muttered Keith.

That wasn’t in the script, and Shiro could see Allura about to stop the cameras when Lance, clearly just as fed up with the long day of filming, snarked back.

“Oh, yeah? Well, the amount of information you have, Keith, could be…”

Keith tipped his chin challengingly at Lance, and Shiro honestly had no idea if he was just rolling with the sudden off-script improvisation or whether he’d forgotten about the cameras altogether. With him, either was possible. “Yeah?”

“Uh…” He could almost see Lance’s eyes flickering about as he tried to think of a good rejoinder. “It’s less than what I have!”

“Oh, good one, Lance!” Hunk interjected, obviously trying to do Lance a solid right there, but he clearly wasn’t much better at improvisations.

Shiro sighed, loudly, signalling the end of the whole affair.

“Cut!”

Lance seized Keith by the collar, dragging him closer. “Want to say that again?” he demanded, but despite being a full head smaller Keith wasn’t backing down either, Shiro didn’t think he even knew the word –

And then they were kissing, teeth clicking together, Lance’s hands still fisted in the front of Keith’s shirt, like they were trying to continue their fight with their tongues.

“A- _hem_.”

Lance broke the kiss almost immediately, but Keith didn’t let him go without a final nip to his bottom lip, and Shiro was sure if they hadn’t been still standing on set Lance would have gotten right back to it. “Sorry,” he mumbled, not sounding very sorry at all. Keith didn’t even bother, just folded his arms and stared defiantly back at Shiro, like he was daring Shiro to either shut up or join them.

And the thing was, Shiro could _completely_ empathise. When was the last time any of them had the energy to get off, nevermind have sex? The night before they got on set, maybe?

They might have had a better schedule than the industry standard, but seven days a week for the past nine weeks was taking its toll on everyone. The days were kind of blurring together, to be honest, evenings of cuddling on the couch mindlessly watching Netflix, too tired to even go for a handjob.

He couldn’t blame Keith and Lance for going at each other with the tiniest provocation; before this job, they were getting laid almost every other night. Sometimes Shiro wanted to just scream _fuck it_ and join them, cameras be damned.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” asked Allura sweetly.

☆

“Annnnnnd – ACTION!”

“So this is how you incorporated King Alfor’s memories into the Castle of Lions?” Pidge was a ball of energy, peering here and there, bouncing between the memory-extraction pod and the cryopod Sendak was standing in.

“Precisely,” agreed Coran, “but it’s never been attempted before on an unwilling participant.”

There was a pause, where presumably the animation team would insert some cool effects.

“Uh, is this what’s supposed to be happening?” Hunk asked, and didn’t have to do much to fake his confusion.

“Let’s give it some time.”

Shiro turned back to the cryopod as he spoke, just in time to see Sendak’s eyes flash open.

“Keith. I am your father.”

For a moment no one spoke. No one even _breathed_.

Shiro didn’t know who started laughing first – it could even have been him, in all honesty – but soon they were all doubled over, holding their stomachs, everyone from the actors to the director of photography to the extras.

Lance was clutching onto Shiro’s bicep, fighting to stay on his feet, actual tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks.

“Father,” Allura choked out from somewhere off-set, “ _Father_ , could we keep this?”

Director Alfor wasn’t faring much better than the rest of them, although he made an attempt to look properly imposing, shaking his head regretfully. “I’m afraid it won’t work, darling. But maybe in the bloopers reel.”

“Come out of that thing and say it to my face.”

Shiro’s head jerked up at the sound of Keith’s snarl, heart swooping in his chest.

But he needn’t have worried. Keith’s stance screamed _aggression_ , but as good an actor he was, even Keith couldn’t control the tiniest twitches in his cheeks, the slight upturn of his lips.

Lance waded across the set, slinging an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “Come on, hotshot,” he crooned, laughter tinging his syllables. “The cameras already stopped rolling; if you wanna go all Skywalker on him, at least let us have a copy of it for posterity.”

Keith swatted at his chest, but Lance clung like a barnacle, as Shiro could personally attest to, and would not be budged.

“Fine,” Keith exhaled, like it was a hardship to drop character, his grin finally lighting up his eyes. “Sendak’s not really much of a Vader anyway; he’s just not cool enough.”

“Hey!”

☆☆☆☆☆

At least the filming ended – mostly – on time.

Shiro slumped over the counter, completely spent. He had no idea where Hunk even got the energy to cook that night; all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Has anyone seen Lance and Keith?” wondered Hunk, pulling trays of delicious-smelling food out of the oven. “I made Lance’s favourite, but they’re going to get cold if he doesn’t get here soon.”

“Neither of them’s answering their phones,” said Pidge around a mouthful of food, tapping at their phone with one hand and clutching the last breadstick in the other.

Shiro looked longingly at the pizza rolls deposited onto the table, but obligingly got to his feet. “I’ll go find them,” he volunteered.

They had better be where he thought they were.

Sticking his head into their trailer, he peered around.

“Guys?”

There was no response, but that didn’t mean anything, really, not with how easily distracted Lance was and how focused Keith was, especially if they were doing what he thought they might be doing.

Shiro stepped into the trailer, glancing over at the couch for any stray bodies or articles of clothing, but there were none.

Bedroom, then.

Even knowing what he’d find didn’t stop the punch of heat to his gut when he walked in to find Keith and Lance tangled together on the bed, clothing in abject disarray as they mouthed frantically at each other, Keith’s dark hair bobbing between Lance’s thighs and Lance’s head hidden by Keith’s knee.

Shiro skirted around a stray pair of pants – Keith’s, he thought, since Lance’s seemed to be around one ankle still – getting closer to the bed. He wasn’t trying to be quiet, but neither of them even looked up, too engrossed in one-upping each other even in _this_ to pay attention to him.

“Hunk says dinner’s ready,” he announced, loudly enough that they couldn’t ignore _that_ , for his own sheer perverse amusement.

“Fuck Hunk,” Keith growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Hey!” Lance protested, feebly, but the effect was rather ruined by the way his hips bucked, chasing after the elusive heat of Keith’s mouth. “That’s, that’s my, ah, do it again –”

“You were saying?” challenged Keith, smirking, but in the next moment he made a low noise, eyelids fluttering closed, and yeah. Yeah, Shiro could see, now that he was near enough, Lance was doing that thing with his tongue that never failed to drive the two of them wild.

He dropped one hand to palm at his crotch, hissing in surprise at how _hard_ he was.

Yeah, okay, it _had_ been a while. A very long while.

Keith was right, Hunk – and dinner – could wait. He was hungry for something else right now.

☆☆☆☆☆

_“Face it. The others don’t know what you know. They haven’t seen what you’ve seen.”_

_No. The voice was wrong. He wasn’t –_

_“Do you really think a monster like you could be loved?”_

“-ro? Wake up. Shiro!”

His chest heaved. He was sitting up, somehow, the restraints around him much looser than he expected. It was…

A dream?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s just a nightmare.”

He knew that voice. It was –

A click of a switch. He flinched, automatically, even before the sudden bright lights came on.

There were two men in front of him, but the lights made it hard to make out their faces. Still, they seemed familiar somehow, like he should know them from somewhere. One of them stretched out a hand –

“Lance, wait.”

Keith.

Keith and Lance. Those were their names.

“That’s us. You’re doing great, Shiro. Can you remember where you are?”

Where he… was?

His hand clenched in the restraints immobilising him, and when he looked down, it took him another moment to realise it was just a duvet. He shoved it off, jerkily, almost violently, and the two men helped to get it off him.

Keith. Lance.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, he could tell that he was in a bedroom of some sort. There were a smattering of trinkets decorating the shelves, three phones sitting side-by-side on the table, and a… prosthetic arm.

Shiro looked to his right automatically, to the glaring empty space where an arm should’ve been.

Right.

He was home.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, unsurprised to find his voice a gravelly mess. “Texas. Filming Voltron.”

Thank goodness for Keith; he understood, _knew_ that Shiro didn’t want to be touched right after a nightmare like that, when everything was still far too raw and open.

“Can we touch you now?”

Shiro gave the matter due consideration, and then slowly nodded.

Lance came first, knee-walking closer, telegraphing his every movement carefully. “I’m going to put my arms around you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Shiro breathed out, feeling those long lean arms go around him, engulfing him in a loose hug. He sighed, resting his head in the crook of Lance’s shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“That’s right. Breathe with us, okay?”

Keith.

Shiro stretched out his hand blindly, patting the air, until a solid warmth appeared under his fingers.

“I’m here, Shiro,” Keith murmured, and a butterfly-light kiss was pressed to his hair.

“Want to talk about it?” asked Lance, still in that same soft tone as before.

He made an effort, but the dream was already vanishing, escaping from the tips of his fingers even as he tried to hold on to its wisps.

“Not really,” he admitted. “I don’t remember much.”

“All right.” Lance continued drawing soothing circles on his back, unhurriedly, like they hadn’t just been woken up in the middle of the night by his ridiculous nightmare.

“I’m sorry,” he said, even though they’d told him a hundred times –

“Don’t apologise, Shiro,” Keith responded immediately, like clockwork. “We really don’t mind.”

“What he said,” agreed Lance, just as he’d done for the past dozen times this had happened.

“Still,” Shiro argued. “Lance, your beauty sleep…”

Lance snorted. “Please, Keith wakes me up more often in the middle of the night when he’s horny.”

“You weren’t complaining back then,” Keith snarked back. “Besides, have you forgotten about the time you…”

Shiro closed his eyes, letting the familiar sounds of their bickering wash over him, the affectionate tone in their voices far more important than the actual words exchanged.

“– sure if it’s a good idea. He hasn’t had one this bad for months,” Lance was saying. “I’m worried.”

“It’s Shiro’s decision,” reminded Keith gently.

“ _Still_ ,” enunciated Lance. “We should see if he wants to talk to Alfor about it, maybe dial back on the amount of PTSD his character shows on-screen.”

Yeah. Yeah, he probably should.

“I’ll talk to him later,” Shiro promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First piece of art (Shiro watching Keith and Lance sleep) by crafty-scrafty, rebloggable [here](http://crafty-scrafty.tumblr.com/post/171428008524/heres-my-piece-for-the-shklancebigbang-this-is).
> 
> Second piece of art (Keith and Lance hugging Shiro after his nightmare) by mistydragonfly, rebloggable [here](mistydragonflyart.tumblr.com/post/171424388277/my-piece-for-the-shklancebigbang-part-of).


	4. Season 2, Part 1

“There’s a week-long break in the middle this time,” reported Shiro, not that anyone was paying attention to him.

“Hey, did you know, we’re a ship now?” Lance grabbed Keith, who was the closest, and tugged him into his lap. “Look, the fans are calling us _Klance_.”

Keith’s brow wrinkled cutely. “… the hell?”

“Klance, you know, Keith-and-Lance?” He drummed his fingers on his thigh, rolling the words over in his mouth, and decided he _liked_ the sound of that.

A little more scrolling through Twitter taught him a new word. “And there’s also _Sheith_ , for Shiro-and-Keith?”

From where he was doing push-ups on the floor, Shiro quirked an eyebrow. “Sounds dirty.”

“Yeah, Keith does make for a good sheath – ow!” Lance gave Keith his best puppydog eyes, and after a moment Keith huffed and put his evil pinching fingers down.

“What’s you and Shiro called?” asked Keith, like a peace offering, and purred contentedly as Lance obligingly scritched at his scalp.

“Uhh…” Lance scrolled further, but his feed was mostly just full of “Klance” and “Sheith”. “I have no idea,” he reported. “It doesn’t seem to be as popular on Twitter.”

Keith patted his thigh consolingly.

“Maybe I need to flirt more on set,” Lance mused out loud. Would his boyfriends mind?

“How about _no_ ,” deadpanned Keith, rolling over so that his face was now smushed into Lance’s lap.

Of course they would. Spoilsports.

He changed tracks. “Well, since you’re down there already, you ought to make yourself useful.”

Keith didn’t even have the decency to crack an eye open. “I’m tired,” he pointed out, mumbling into the meat of Lance’s thigh, “and if I fall asleep with your cock in my mouth your fragile man-ego will never live it down.”

Oh, _rude_.

But even Shiro was snickering unhelpfully as he got up from the floor. “Maybe another time,” he said, giving Lance an apologetic kiss to take the sting out of his words, and dropping another kiss on Keith’s hair.

☆☆☆☆☆

“Keith? Lance?”

Lance could hear the voice coming through the door, but it was just Shiro so he didn’t bother to stop pawing at Keith’s pants, palming the very interested bulge under those swimming trunks.

The doors to the fake elevator creaked open.

“Seriously, guys?”

Keith finally deigned to break the snog, arching a brow at Shiro as he casually wiped at his mouth. “What?”

Shiro stared at him, eyes dropping lower for a moment, before his sense of responsibility kicked back in. He sighed and shook his head. “Nevermind. They’re calling for you two – you’re up in ten minutes.”

“Plenty of time.” Lance smirked cockily at Shiro. “Wanna join us?”

“In the closet?” Shiro, too, knew how to wield those Eyebrows of Doom. “Nah, I came out of _that_ ages ago.”

Keith leaned around Lance and squinted dubiously at the space they were squeezed into, which, _fine_ , did look somewhat like a closet to Lance too. He’ll have to hand it to Shiro this round.

“Really, guys – they’re starting your scene in seven minutes, so unless you want to be caught with your pants down – _literally_ – you better clean yourselves up.

Heaving one last sigh, Lance detached himself from Keith. But seriously, how could anyone blame him? He’d just spent the past few hours practically glued to Keith’s bare back, trying to manoeuvre themselves up this elevator shaft without anything more than their bare feet for traction. He needed some _stress relief_ , okay? Even Shiro would’ve done the same.

“Shiro would not have done the same,” Shiro said over his shoulder. “Shiro would have at least gotten back to the trailer first.”

Lance stuck out his tongue.

“I saw that,” Shiro added, without even turning his head. “Come on, they’re doing the pool scene over here.”

☆

“Urgh,” Lance got onto his knees, and glanced over to check how Keith was doing, the way his character would’ve done, no matter how much he professed to hate Keith.

But Keith wasn’t looking at him. Keith was looking up, and that was a really credible look of stunned surprise on his face. Either Keith had suddenly gotten into character at an unprecedented speed, or there was something else that was putting that expression on his face.

Lance, too, looked up.

Someone had taped an inflatable pool, the kind meant for five-year-old kids, onto the ceiling. Upside-down.

“Oh, come on!” Lance yelled. “ _Seriously?_ ”

From beyond the set, Pidge cackled.

“ _Stupid Altean pools_ ,” Keith muttered, with feeling.

☆☆☆☆☆

Lance bounced into Wardrobe gleefully, like a kid on Halloween. For the upcoming scene at the Space Mall, Director Alfor had – surprisingly, even if Lance should’ve started getting used to his eccentricities already – agreed to let them pick their own costumes.

He could hear Keith and Shiro wading cautiously through the racks behind him, and scoffed loudly. Cowards.

“I don’t even _need_ a costume,” Shiro pointed out loudly. “I’m not even going to be at the Space Mall; I’m supposed to be bonding with the Black Lion.”

Lance turned around and pouted at him. “Please?” he asked hopefully. “Pretty please with a blowjob on top?”

It was always fun to see Shiro flush.

“Fine.”

Keith folded his arms over his chest, like he was trying to protect himself from the scary fabric monsters, now that Shiro had come over to the dark side. “I don’t see what’s wrong with what we normally wear.”

Lance sighed, gustily, and prepared to demonstrate to Keith _exactly_ why they needed to dress up –

“What you usually wear marks you as a paladin of Voltron. You need a disguise so that you don’t get recognised at the Space Mall,” explained Shiro, in a tone far too reasonable for Lance’s tastes, but it seem to be working on Keith.

“… fine,” Keith grudgingly agreed.

Lance deflated, swallowing the impassionate argument he was about to start on.

But, hey, now he got to dress both his boyfriends up, so he was still going to count it as a win.

“Come on, guys,” he crowed, diving down another aisle. “Let’s see what they have!”

☆

What Wardrobe had, judging by what they found, was _a_ _lot_.

Keith had disappeared into the changing rooms while Lance was debating between two coats, carrying something Lance didn’t pay much attention to. He’d see it once Keith got out, anyway.

The blue one looked great, but it was also a size too large. The tan one fit perfectly, but… eh… it washed out his face, he thought, inspecting his reflection critically in the nearest mirror. And that would be _such_ a shame.

Still, as far as disguises went, it was pretty decent.

Oooh, were those aviator goggles?

The swish of curtains alerted him to the fact that Keith had decided to make a reappearance. Snatching up the final item, Lance turned around to ask Keith for his opinion –

And blinked.

Keith stared at back at him, dark brows raised questioningly. Lance shuddered to think what kind of expression he might be making, for Keith to be looking back at him like _that_.

“No. No no no no _no_. You are not wearing that.”

Keith looked down at himself. “I thought the point of this was to disguise ourselves.”

“ _No_ – I mean, yes,” Lance corrected himself. “We’re supposed to disguise ourselves, yeah, but it’s a _crime against humanity_ if I let you go out like… like _that_.”

Lance was speechless.

 _Speechless_.

Keith rendered him dumbstruck on a pretty regular basis, he could admit in the privacy of his own head, but this was way beyond anything else he’d done before.

“No, this won’t do,” he decided, waving his hands in a clear indication for Keith to _start stripping already_ , that outfit was giving him conniptions just looking at it.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with it,” Keith griped, even as he started yanking the top – which looked like a formless paper bag, like someone’s bad idea of a Halloween ghost costume – off. “It’s a pretty good disguise?”

“ _Maybe_ ,” stressed Lance, rooting through another aisle of clothing. He thought he’d seen… aha, found it. “But only Shiro can make a paper bag look good. You, on the other hand, need to show off those fantastic legs of yours.”

Keith yelped and almost toppled over when what Lance had been looking for hit him in the face.

“What.” His tone was flat.

“Put that on,” Lance directed, all business.

“I can’t –” Keith started, breaking off halfway to hold the pants up to his waist, “it won’t _fit_!”

“Yes it will,” disagreed Lance.

“It _won’t_.” He didn’t even need to look at Keith’s face to know his boyfriend was scowling fiercely.

“Five bucks it fits,” Lance challenged, instantly.

“I – urgh,” Keith sighed, unzipping the fly on those leather trousers. “You’ll see,” he growled.

In response, Lance simply smirked.

☆

“Why do I even need three belts?”

“Oh, just shut up and wear what I tell you to, idiot.”

☆

 “Where’s Shiro?” Lance wondered, now that the two of them had found suitable disguises. He was a genius, if he could say so himself. All he’d have to do, was show Keith in this getup to Shiro, and Keith would have no choice but to wear this for his disguise at the Space Mall.

“I think he went that way.”

Lance couldn’t help lowering his gaze appreciatively as Keith walked past, the belts wrapped around his hips accentuating his narrow waist and perky butt.

Right. Shiro.

“Found him!” yelled Keith from somewhere up ahead. “He – wow.”

Lance sped up, rounding a corner and almost crashing into Keith, barely catching himself on Keith’s shoulders at the last moment. “Warn a guy – whoa.”

Whoa.

Well, never let it be said _Shiro_ didn’t know how to pick a disguise.

Shiro blushed a little, the bridge of his nose turning an adorable pink. “You like it?” he asked hopefully.

“Like it?” Lance repeated, a little incredulously, since Keith didn’t look like he was capable of coherency yet. “Are you kidding me?” He gestured at Shiro’s… everything. “You, you just…” And he was officially out of adjectives, shooting Shiro a pair of thumbs-up instead.

Shiro looked like he just walked out of a _fairytale_.

There was a fur-lined cloak draped casually over his shoulders, a heavy faux-ermine thing that would’ve looked utterly ridiculous on Keith or Lance, but somehow _worked_ perfectly with Shiro’s broad shoulders, especially when he struck a pose and the cloak fell open to reveal leather vambraces stretched over his forearms, gleaming like they’d been freshly oiled.

Lance licked his lips.

He didn’t know he had a leather kink, but man, was he down for this.

The rest of the ensemble was pretty sweet too, from the black tunic Shiro had on underneath the cloak, to the – Lance squinted. Were those leather pants? They could very well be; he’d have to touch them to be sure, of course. For the sake of accuracy and scientific curiosity and all.

“Lance, why are you groping me?”

“It _is_ leather!” Lance crowed, triumphantly, starting to turn around. “Now Keith’s got no excuse – leather pants _are_ a good disguise, see –”

Except Keith wasn’t standing by the wall anymore.

Lance spun back around, just in time to see Keith grab a fistful of Shiro’s cloak and yank him down for a kiss.

The angle was pretty awkward, but neither of them seemed to mind, judging by the tiny hitched groan Shiro gave, or the aborted twitch of Keith’s hips.

Yeah. Yeah, it had been a while, all right. Lance couldn’t even remember when was the last time the three of them had some quality (read: sex) time together, instead of stolen moments in closets and quick pecks in the morning.

Man, Lance was really looking forward to the one-week break coming up soon.

“So, Prince Shiro,” Lance began, just to see Shiro flush. “I guess we’re keeping this outfit?”

Keith laughed.


	5. Season 2, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final scene contains explicit sexual content.

Keith shifted awkwardly, trying to surreptitiously tug at a wedgie.

This spandex… _thing_ was… really tight.

All around him, the other Blades were coming in for their own costume fittings, but since Keith was going to be doing a lot of manoeuvres in this suit, he figured he’d better come in early, get used to how it feels.

Jumping was going to be a pain in the ass, he could tell. Likely, literally.

Maybe he should go test it out. At this hour, the on-site gym should be relatively free, and anyway Keith just needed to test a few cartwheels.

The door behind him opened, just as Keith planned to leave.

“Oh, hey Shiro.”

Shiro gave a slow, _slow_ blink. His face was still bare of makeup, so it was easy to spot the slight flush creeping down the side of his face.

Keith frowned. “Shiro, are you feeling okay? You’re not getting sick or anything right?” It wouldn’t be totally unheard of; even Shiro occasionally succumbed to microbes like the rest of them mortal men.

“Uh.” Shiro cleared his throat, and tried again. His voice sounded like a frog had died in it. “I – I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Keith pressed. He got up onto his tiptoes, feeling Shiro’s forehead. It didn’t feel very hot under Keith’s hand, but then, Keith naturally ran hot. “Maybe we should take you to the on-site doctor.”

“Keith – wait!” Shiro yelped, but Keith was already dragging him through the door, intent on his destination. His boyfriend could be so _stubborn_ at times; it wasn’t like having fighter pilot training precluded him from getting sick like the rest of them.

“Keith,” Shiro was insisting, tugging on their joined hands. “Keith, no, stop, I’m not sick, I know what this is –”

“What?” demanded Keith, spinning back around.

Shiro grimaced, and for some reason glanced up and down the corridor before he leaned in. “You look so good in this,” he murmured into Keith’s ear, his breath hot against the shell. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

Then he pulled back, and Keith managed three startled blinks before heat _flooded_ his cheeks. “S-shiro! Don’t say such things in public!” he hissed, glancing around surreptitiously, but thankfully there was no one else around.

Shiro _grinned_ at him, leaning forwards to steal a kiss from Keith’s slack lips, squeezing Keith’s hip gently with his flesh arm.

“We’ve got half an hour until filming starts,” Keith said, inanely, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Even though he knew he couldn’t risk messing up the suit, not when this was the only tailored one Wardrobe had on hand right now.

“Yeah.” Shiro peeled himself away, carding his fingers through Keith’s hair one last time. “I’d better get going, before we mess up that suit of yours any further.”

Keith slid down the wall as Shiro trotted off, breathing in deeply through his mouth and trying to will down the _very_ obvious situation in his _very_ tight pants.

☆☆☆☆☆

Filming was… taxing.

Trying to maintain a reasonable budget while not skimping on the production meant that often, the crew had to do their own stunts instead of body doubles. And none of them, except for Shiro, were remotely trained for that kind of thing.

Keith panted, and didn’t have to fake the way he was bracing himself against the floor, one arm propping him upright, shaking so hard he was vaguely surprised he hadn’t fallen over yet. If they called for a retake _again_ –

“Next scene,” Alfor announced, and Keith almost collapsed onto the floor in sheer relief.

Next scene. Yeah, the next scene just needed him to stand in front of Shiro and spout some lines, he could do that.

Stars, why did he think it was such a good idea to do _all_ his stunt scenes on his own? In one day, even?

Stupid Lance.

Stupid dares.

Urgh.

A shadow fell over him, and a strong arm wrapped itself around his shoulders.

“You’re almost there,” Shiro coaxed, helping him to his feet. “One last scene, okay? You just need to stand there and look pretty.”

Keith shot him a half-hearted glare, trying to tell Shiro with his eyes how much that was _not_ true.

Shiro smirked, taking a few steps back and putting his Paladin helmet back on.

“ACTION!”

“Kolivan told me you lasted longer than anyone ever has in those battles. You don’t have to keep this up,” Shiro said. His eyes were boring into Keith’s, like he was trying to tell Keith something with his gaze alone, something he couldn’t vocalise in the headquarters of the Blade of Marmora.

Keith blinked. “What are you talking about?” he asked, the script flowing off his tongue, caught in the intensity of Shiro’s gaze. The camera likely couldn’t pick all of that up, he didn’t think, but Shiro had always been able to get into character at the drop of a hat.

_Focus, Keith._

“Just give them the knife,” Shiro pleaded, and even took a minute step closer, his hands twitching. “And let’s get out of here.”

“I can’t give it to them,” Keith repeated. He shook his head, glancing down at the knife, imagining it was a priceless family heirloom. His character… Alfor had designed them specifically for their actors, and if _Keith_ had _anything_ from his parents, he would –

“What is it with you and that _thing_?”

“It’s the only connection I have to my past!” Keith yelled, his fist clenching on the knife, betrayal shining in his eyes. “Don’t you understand? It’s my chance to learn who I _really_ am.”

He knew who he was. He was happy with who he was. But sometimes… sometimes Keith still _wished_ …

“You know exactly who you are, a Paladin of Voltron,” Shiro barked, but then his tone softened. “We’re all the family you need.”

Shiro and Lance… they were the family he _chose_ , after a lifetime bouncing from foster family to foster family, in and out of the orphanage, fighting to reclaim a shred of his own identity.

Keith sighed. “Takashi, you’re like a brother to me…” he began, and then shook his head sharply.

Shiro snorted, and the tiniest smirk flitted across his face, right before he cut Keith off. “That’s not how I’d put last night.”

Eh?

“CUT!”

Keith blinked, as the entire filming crew burst into raucous noise, everybody talking simultaneously.

“Shiro!” Alfor yelled, over the cacophony. “I expected better of you!”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Lance’s voice pointed out, equally loud and coming nearer, and that made Keith’s head snap around. Lance was here? Wasn’t he off filming his part with Pidge, Hunk and Allura?

“Hey, hotshot.” A long lanky arm draped itself over Keith’s shoulders, before he could keep searching.

“What are you doing here?”

“Had a few minutes, wanted to see you.” Lance nuzzled at his neck, arms skimming down Keith’s chest very lightly.

“Lance,” Shiro’s voice was very near, and very amused. “We’re going live in thirty seconds, you should probably be on your way too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dropping a quick peck on Keith’s lips, Lance leaned over and kissed Shiro too before flouncing off in the direction of the door.

Director Alfor rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Take two starting,” he shouted, and Keith and Shiro obediently got back into position.

☆☆☆☆☆

“I told you, didn’t I?” Shiro growled into his ear, making Keith shiver. “Do you know how hard it was to control myself the whole day?”

Keith would deny the desperate mewl that crawled out of his throat, but he was too far gone to care. Shiro had practically _dragged_ him off-set the moment they were done for the day, didn’t even let him clean up or get his spandex suit off, just threw Keith over his shoulder and marched off with him.

His ears _burned_ at the memory, at the knowing grins on everyone’s faces.

“If you’re still thinking, I’m clearly not trying hard enough.”

No, that wasn’t – Keith tried to protest, but all he managed was something he couldn’t even pretend to himself wasn’t a moan.

They hadn’t even made it into the bedroom, because Shiro had just shoved Keith up against the nearest vertical surface the moment they’d stumbled into the trailer, slammed him up against the metal wall and went at him right there, like he couldn’t wait any longer –

“Shiro,” Keith gasped. “Shiro, wait –”

“I’m _done_ waiting, I’ve been waiting the _whole damned day_ –” Shiro shook his head, his eyes boring into Keith’s, and the rest of Keith’s objections died on his lips.

Shiro reached up, pinning Keith’s wrists above his head with his prosthetic hand, a vice-like grip that made Keith struggle reflexively but couldn’t break free from. Fuck, but he loved this, loved the effortless way Shiro could hold him down and just _take_ –

His voice cracked on another moan, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Shiro was hiking his thigh up higher, grinding their hips together at a frantic pace that stole the breath from Keith’s lungs. Or maybe that was because of the way Shiro was kissing him, open-mouthed and wet, licking into his mouth like he wanted to _devour_ Keith.

Shiro made a frustrated noise, pushing himself back a step, and Keith had barely managed to blink his eyes open when there was the sound of a buckle hitting the floor. Then Shiro was back, and this time when he stepped closer, Keith could feel the heat of Shiro’s cock slotting between his thighs.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Shiro whispered, like a brand, a _promise_.

Keith shivered, whether from the cold lube or the purr in Shiro’s voice he couldn’t tell, and it was all he could do to hang on as Shiro set up a bruising pace, the spandex all slippery with lube and sweat, his cock gliding easily between Keith’s thighs.

He came with a hoarse groan into Keith’s ear, and Keith was vaguely aware that he was making frantic whining noises, hips shifting restlessly, _begging_ for friction –

“What, you guys started without me?”

Keith’s eyes flew open.

Lance was standing in the doorway, one hand braced on the wall, hip cocked. He was dressed in his casual post-shower clothes, so it was easy to see the way he was tenting in his sweatpants.

Keith stumbled forwards as Shiro abruptly let him go, giving him a little shove towards Lance.

“All yours,” Shiro panted.

The next few moments were a blur of heat and movement, of being shoved down onto the couch, of a tongue in his mouth and fingers scrabbling at wet latex – _goddamn it_ , where was that damned zipper – and then of bare skin against skin, Lance’s hand wrapped around them both, twisting his wrist in that little upstroke that he _knew_ Keith loved –

Keith might have blacked out, he wasn’t sure, but the next thing he was conscious of was soft voices above his head.

“– think it’s salvageable.”

He was lying on something warm and firm, and there were fingers combing through his hair.

 _Shiro’s lap_ , his mind supplied.

“I don’t know,” Shiro was saying. “I guess… maybe it can be cleaned?”

Lance’s voice was far more dubious. “Don’t think that zip can be fixed, that’s for sure.”

Wait.

Keith sat up suddenly, glancing down at himself – and, yeah. Okay. Okay, he could see where Lance was coming from. There was no way Wardrobe could fix… _that_.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Wardrobe’s going to kill me.”

“Well.” Lance nipped at his ear. “At least you went out with a bang?”


	6. Season 2, Part 3

The past few months of filming felt like a never-ending marathon.

Shiro sighed, feet pounding against the dusty packed earth, and tipped his head back to watch the sunrise. Anything to get his mind off things.

Without thought, he found himself rubbing at his stump again. It ached almost constantly now, especially right after he put on or took off his prosthetic, a bone-deep soreness that radiated all the way to his shoulder. Even Keith and Lance had noticed, and they’d stopped bickering long enough to work out a regular stump massage schedule for him.

Shiro didn’t have the heart to tell them that it wasn’t working.

Still, the filming was drawing to a close, and they’ll have a couple months off soon. He could figure out what was wrong _then_.

☆☆☆☆☆

Shiro grunted in pain, and didn’t even have to fake it. “How much more?” his voice, when he managed to force the words out, were a hair breathier than usual. Hopefully they’d chalk it up to his acting skills.

“I hope not much, because my gravity generator is not going to run forever!” Slav yelled back.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold Z-zar –”

He broke off to fake a cough, barely biting back the groan of pain in time. It felt like _fire_ was racing down his right arm, setting every nerve left in that arm alight.

“You okay, Shiro?” Keith called over the intercom. If the cockpits were actually capable of transmissions like they were in the show, Shiro had no doubt Keith’s face would have popped up on his screen. _It’s not like you to mess up a line_ , was left unsaid.

“Yeah,” responded Shiro. “I’m fine.”

The words tasted like ashes in his mouth.

☆☆☆☆☆

One moment he was pacing along the length of the trailer, reciting his script for the next day’s filming, and the next –

Flames licked up his right arm, and suddenly he was back there, rubble and debris overlaying the normalcy of their trailer.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

 _Breathe, Shiro,_ he could hear his therapist whispering in his ear. _Breathe in. Good._

Shiro blinked.

He’d somehow wedged himself between the L-shaped couch and the wall, curled up as small as he could go.

Just like that day.

_No. Stop._

Shiro stared straight ahead, willing himself to ignore the way the coppery tang of blood burst over his tongue.

_One. Two. Three. Four._

Breathe in.

_Two. Two. Three. Four._

Keith and Lance’s voices joined that of his therapist’s. _You’re safe, Shiro_ , he could imagine Lance cooing, hand outstretched, waiting for permission to approach. Keith would be right behind him, radiating silent reassurance, waiting for any signal on Shiro’s part.

Breathe out.

Sharp pain bloomed over his left thigh, and for a moment he stared uncomprehendingly at the fingers of his left hand, the way they dug so deep into his flesh that he could see little welts starting to form.

“You’re safe,” he said out loud. “You’re home.”

He waited, heart thumping wildly in his chest, but the world stayed in focus this time.

Shiro’s eyes sought the clock on the wall.

Two more hours until Keith and Lance were due back. He had to get himself sorted out before that.

☆☆☆☆☆

Bone spurs.

The doctors had warned him, back when he was first fitted for the prosthetic, that it was a possibility, but at the time Shiro had been willing to do _anything_ to be useful again, to feel like he was more than a crippled war veteran.

He’d thought – he’d thought –

Never mind.

It wasn’t important.

☆☆☆☆☆

He should tell them.

Shiro knew that, he really did. They were past that initial stage by now, when Shiro was second-guessing every other move he made, worrying endlessly if Keith or Lance was repulsed by his prosthetic, or by the empty pyjama sleeve in bed. They loved him, arm or no arm. He knew that.

So why was it so hard to _open his mouth_?

It should’ve been easy enough, one of those times Lance or Keith was asking him if he was okay, to change his answer from “I’m fine” to “Not really”. To tell them – and by the gods, their entire _relationship_ was built upon the foundations of open communication, of telling each other when things weren’t working out.

But he couldn’t get these three little words out of his mouth.

_I’m not okay._

They sat at the back of his throat, threatening to choke him up every time he opened his mouth.

 _Just a little more_ , he told himself, sternly. _Filming’s almost over, I’ll tell them afterwards._

He hoped it wasn’t going to be a lie.

☆☆☆☆☆

_“We’ve got to act fast. The power will only be down for twenty minutes,” Shiro barked out, fingers flying over the controls in his cockpit. “The Blade of Marmora’s schematics showed four targets we need to hit. The weapons sys-sys –”_

Wrong.

Something was wrong.

“Shiro? Shiro!”

There were voices calling his name.

_Focus, Shiro!_

“I think there’s something wrong with my arm,” he fought out, through gritted teeth.

There was a commotion behind him, all around him, but it was Keith’s hands on his shoulders, Lance’s warmth behind his back, Keith’s voice telling him over and over again to _just breathe, Shiro, we got you_.

“Should we get him to hospital?” someone asked, at some point in time, and it was all Shiro could do to shake his head.

“I know what this is,” he gasped, and fought his way through a new surge of pain. “Arm, get – get my arm off, it –”

“I’ll do it.” Lance’s body shifted, his warmth leaving his back, and Shiro bit back an instinctive whine. He took the arm off and wrapped a spare shirt around the stump, and Shiro had never loved him more, loved the way Lance’s hands were steady on nerves already rubbed raw, the way Lance had never once flinched at Shiro’s prosthetic, when Shiro himself had trouble looking at it sometimes.

“Talk to me, Shiro,” Keith urged, his voice a guiding light in his ear.

“I think, I think I’m growing bone spurs.”

“You’re growing – what?” Lance cut himself off, shaking his head sharply. “Never mind, if you’re sure you don’t need a hospital.”

Shiro forced himself to focus, to shake his head again, when words were too much to bear through the haze of pain.

“Come on, let’s get him back to the trailer,” Keith muttered above his head, carefully hoisting Shiro up.

☆☆☆☆☆

The silence in the trailer was deafening.

The pain in his stump had faded to a dull ache, with intermittent sharp jabs. As though he could _forget_ its existence.

Shiro couldn’t bear to look at their faces, preferring to stare at the floor. He didn’t know what he’d find – pity? Disgust? Anger? Whatever it was, he deserved it, he knew that – but it was easier to pretend. Easier not to look.

Keith was pacing the room, over and over again, his tread heavy and ominous and Shiro would’ve preferred there be shouting, would’ve preferred anything to this – silence.

“You should’ve told us.” Lance sounded genuinely upset, and not the slightest bit mad. “Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice cracked, like a glass shattering, but Keith didn’t tease him about it.

Shiro winced.

“I –”

He swallowed.

They waited.

“I was scared,” he finally admitted.

Keith’s footsteps came to a halt.

“Of what?”

“Of –” _say it, Shiro. Just say it out loud._ “Telling you guys, saying the words out loud, _acknowledging it_ – that makes the problem real. And yeah, yeah I know –” he hastened to cut Lance off, knowing without looking up that Lance was about to interject, “I know. It’s not like the problem was going to go away, but I – I _wished_ it wasn’t. It’s not that I don’t trust you guys, because I _do_ –”

“Didn’t think you didn’t,” Lance rushed to reassure, his voice rising over whatever else Shiro had been about to say. Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro could see Lance pushing himself off the wall he had been leaning against, coming closer.

“C’mon, Keith.”

With a soft exhale, Keith turned around, joining Lance in wrapping his arms around Shiro.

“It’ll be okay, Shiro. Just tell us what you need.”

☆☆☆☆☆

“What do you mean, he has to wait four weeks for the surgery?” Keith demanded, looking like he was about to lean over and shake the intern who’d brought the news.

Shiro put a pre-emptive hand on his shoulder, just in case.

“It’s not an emergency?” explained Allura, her voice lilting upwards at the end, half a question and half not. “So the earliest slot the hospital has is in four weeks’ time.”

Shiro could see Keith’s fists clenching and unclenching by his side. “It’s okay,” he soothed, before Keith could consider taking his anger out on anyone. “We’ve got one last episode to film anyway; I can go right after that, I promise.”

“About that…” a new voice cut in, and all of them looked over in surprise.

“Director Alfor,” Shiro greeted. He felt very tired all of a sudden.

“Shiro, can I talk to you in my office for a minute?”

☆

Director Alfor looked apologetic, but the words out of his mouth were making Shiro feel cold all over.

“Studio just called last week, told us that our ratings were so high, they’ve decided to push up the release of Season Three. I’m sorry, Shiro. We’re going to have to cut the post-season break.”

☆

“What.” Keith’s tone was flat.

“What?” echoed Lance, in eerie mimicry.

Any other time, and Shiro would’ve laughed.

“I’m being moved to recurring character next season, to give me more time to recover from the surgery.”

He coughed at their identical looks. It wasn’t often Lance looked murderous, that was usually Keith’s forte, but this time –

“It’ll be fine. I’ll get to stay on set with you guys while I’m recovering, maybe play with the mice a bit more, shoot some lasers. It’s cool.” The more Shiro talked about it, the more he could convince himself that this was what he wanted.

Fake it ‘til he made it, right?

“Shiro…”

Keith put up a hand to stop Lance. “If that’s what you think is best,” he said seriously, “then we’ll of course support your decision.”

Lance shot Keith a wide-eyed look, and received a hard pinch to the side for his trouble.

Shiro pretended not to notice the byplay. Was he happy? No, not exactly, but he could also see where Alfor was coming from.

“Really, I’m good with this. Didn’t you both complain we didn’t have enough time for each other, with the insane filming schedule? A lighter filming schedule for me would do us all good. Alfor said he’ll try to put me back on the main cast list next season.”

Keith looked vaguely mollified by that concession.

Shiro put his hand on their shoulders, first Keith and then Lance. “As long as I’ve got the two of you, the details don’t matter,” he said. His job security might be in question, and he didn’t like _that_ , but about this, he was completely sincere.

“Always,” Keith responded, immediately.

“Definitely,” agreed Lance. “We’re all in this together.”


End file.
